Sight Regained
by Spazzcat-Katori
Summary: It's been a year and a half since the accident, and the leaves are changing again. If only he could see them. ONESHOT. Based on an RP.


Author's notes: This story is based on an ongoing RP I've been doing with my France and America from my Hetalia RP group. What you see here is a possible ending to the plot, which is still early in the storyline right now. But the relevant facts should all be covered in the story you see here.

Summary: It's been a year and a half since the accident, and the leaves are changing again. If only he could see them.

Rating: K

Genre: Angst/General

oooooooooo

Sight Regained

It had been 18 months since the car accident. 78 weeks since he had seen anything but darkness. 547 days of struggling to re-learn how to do the simplest of tasks. A year and a half that made him understand the slow passage of time perceived by humans-each day seemed to stretch on as endlessly as the last.

In the first six months, bruises faded back to unmarked skin, the twisted wrist regained mobility, the lacerations across his face healed to an intricate lacework of scars, and the doctor pronounced his damaged eyes as healed as they would ever be. Despite continued assurances that he might yet regain his sight, Matthew knew those chances grew ever slimmer as more time passed. By the 12-month mark, he had resigned himself to permanent blindness. He didn't even bother opening his eyes anymore.

So it was that he awoke on a Saturday morning, a year and a half after a drunk driver and shattered windshield ruined his eyes, to the sound of the radio announcer talking about the unprecedented beauty of the changing leaves.

He shut the radio off with a sharp click. But he could not turn off his connection to his land, the instinctive knowledge that right now, every deciduous tree from Cape Spear to the Yukon-Alaska border was at the peak of its change in colour. It was said to be the most spectacular autumnal display in living memory. Human living memory. And no way of checking it against his own. The Canadian firmly shoved those thoughts aside.

A growing restlessness plagued him that day. An urge to get up and go that he finally realized was a reflection of the will of his people. As if on some unspoken cue, millions of people were abandoning the cities and towns and going out to the wilderness to be among the trees. In many stores, not enough workers had actually shown up to run the place, but it didn't matter because they had no customers to serve. Everyone who could had gone out into the autumn day.

Matthew followed. Without really being aware of more than the need to be outside, he gathered some food and his GPS. A leash was clipped to Kumajiro's collar as Canada apologized, like he always did, for the indignity the bear had to suffer to help his nation. Then they were outside.

His feet wandered of their own volition. One foot in front of the other, toes sweeping for obstacles in much the same way native trackers felt for twigs or pebbles underfoot that might shift and alert their prey. He passed from clearings marked by the warmth of the sun on his shoulders to thick wooded areas where the the trees made cool tunnels with leaves crunching underfoot.

He did not know how long or far he walked, with Kumajiro occasionally pulling at the lead to direct him around obstacles. But it was only after he climbed a steep slope of soft grass, open to the sun, that he stopped. He settled into the grass, stretching out on the grass, spreadeagled and staring upwards with his eyes closed.

His eyelids fluttered slightly for a moment, and his breath hitched. It couldn't be. He'd imagined that momentary flash of blue.

Matthew's heart pounded in his chest, as despair warred with hope. Slowly, slowly, violet eyes slid open. And found an endless expanse of blue. He froze, not daring to blink for fear the sight would vanish into the darkness again. Eventually, his eyes watered and he was forced to blink, but the blue continued.

Turning his head to the side brought a blur of green into view, fuzzy but growing sharper and clearer by the moment as his eyes remembered how to focus. On trembling hands, the Canadian pushed himself upright and looked down the hill.

Below him stretched a seemingly endless expanse of trees, a broad panorama of yellows, reds, browns, oranges, and the green of evergreens scattered among them. The land was the colour of fire beneath a cloudless sea of air.

Matthew's vision blurred again, but this time it was because of the tears now streaming down his cheeks. Just as he could sense his land and his people and know how they were, his land had felt its personification and known he was healing.

His land was welcoming him back.


End file.
